#tensimm fic

[theprodigalpragmatist]

HUGELY excited about this one!!! this has been months in the making...massive thanks for the ghouls who have haunted my docs and held my hands along the way 🙏 the journey begins...

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Relationships: Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)

Additional Tags: Rated For Violence Rated for Gore Body Horror Psychological Horror Angst Melancholy Graphic Depictions of Illness Graphic descriptions of injury Academy era references Childhood Trauma Past Abuse Violence Additional Warnings In Author's Note Slow Burn

Summary:

'Get out of the way.' The Master made his choice; he stole back his fate. And then he woke up. Through the Doctor's TARDIS, he wanders. He's not himself, but the Doctor tells him he's perfect, just like this. The scabs of their past define the scars of their future—who is the Master becoming?

[bluuscreen]

silly silly silly

i’m apparently not immune to the idea of domestic saxteen [and tensimm is also there. if that’s what that in the top left of the canvas counts as]

[roxannepolice]

Love the infinite varieties of saxteen. Like, under one name we have:

two dilfs enjoying their retirement (default for the tag, subspecies including Fourteen getting to silver raccoon right before toothication, Fourteen getting his man out of the tooth or Fifteen getting him out of the tooth and deciding to dump him on Fourteen)

Fourteen immediately jumping off to make out with newborn kitten in floofy sleeves Saxon by @veraynes-blog

Fourteen prolly taking advantage of a paradox to rip that smooth criminal suit off (now I'm getting ideas yk)

college professor finding himself a punky boytoy energy by @tenderlywicked

just. David Tennant. with a five o'clock shadow. tucking a golden tooth in bed. kissing it goodnight. carrying it to the altar.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Something with the master getting relief from the drums? Bonus points if the “comfort” is insidious in a background way w him not not realizing bc it’s too good

<3 gently mindbreaks him <3 for his own good <3

It’s the sweet relief of quiet that has the Master leaning into the Doctor’s hands.

“There we go,” the Doctor murmurs. There’s nothing but silence and him, and the Master hasn’t felt so relaxed in his entire life.

He was upset earlier. He can barely reach the feeling through the liquid comfort filling his mind. Something about what the Doctor offered him to drink, and the thick feeling of his tongue, and heavy weight of his limbs as he clambers into the Doctor’s lap. He tries to call the anger back, but all he can feel are pleasant waves lapping around his mind again and again.

There’s a beat on the edge of his awareness, growing louder. Returning.

The Doctor squeezes the back of his neck. His eyelids fall shut, leave him in the dark with the Doctor’s touch and the Doctor’s voice to hold onto.

“They’re persistent,” the Doctor says, frustrated. “Fine. Let me take some more out. We’ll see if that gets rid of them.”

He’s too slow to think or react as the Doctor’s mind presses into his. For a moment, he has the energy to fight, but not the means. His body tenses as the Doctor shushes him. He presses the Master down, down, down, under the water. It’s calm and quiet below. He melts under the Doctor’s hands as he holds him, in his mind and in reality.

Something flows out of him into the deep water. He frowns against the Doctor’s shoulder.

But it’s so quiet. It doesn’t matter what he’s lost as long as it’s quiet.

His thoughts come slower. Every feeling turns into relaxed joy. He tries to remember who he is. The Doctor drowns him gently and only draws him up again when he’s satisfied. The drums are gone again, even above the surface.

“All better, Koschei?” the Doctor asks. The name sinks into him, remembered and accepted.

(Wasn’t there something else? Hadn’t he made himself into someone-)

Koschei leans into the Doctor, the source of his peace, always his friend, the only thing in the universe he thinks about or needs. All these things become perfectly true, and he doesn’t notice the Doctor’s mind curled around his own to whisper them to him while he’s so empty of his own thoughts.

He’s never been more happy than he is lazing under the Doctor’s hands as they pet down his spine and through his hair. His touch makes Koschei’s skin tingle, drawing his attention to the Doctor’s hands and away from what the Doctor’s doing to his head. It’s all so easy.

Vibrations at the back of his skull. He whines into the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Back again?” the Doctor says, but he sounds a little too pleased. Koschei can’t remember if he should be worried about that. Why he would be. The Doctor only wants to help him. He can keep the drums away, if Koschei lets him do anything he wants. Though, Koschei’s not sure that there’s a choice, or if he’d even be able to make it, so maybe it’s best that the Doctor doesn’t ask, only plunges him back down into the water in his head and all that’s left of the Master slowly drains away.

Koschei blinks sleepily into the Doctor’s shoulder. He’s not sure who that is that he’s feeling slip from his fingers. Someone important? He’s not sure who he is, either, but the Doctor’s most loved friend.

It doesn’t matter, he decides. As long as it’s quiet. He lets his mind be washed out to blissful emptiness.

[ten-simm]

Probably already posted this here before but I'm still in need of more Harold Saxon/John Smith AUs

[incorrectquotesconaisseur]

Here are some of my favourite thoschei fics:

(for @hadesbullshit )

The Deca (Series One) by Victory (Barnable) -

And when push comes to shove by ichabodcranemills -

You don't have to kill me, just lead me there by z_in_a_blue_box -

Theseus' paradox by Lis_zimoy - https://archiveofourown.org/works/51052750

Second Draft by Verayne - https://archiveofourown.org/works/43899492

The only hell I'm going to by orphan_account - https://archiveofourown.org/works/12853668

the dying of the light by lupescx - https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632762

locked in orbit by yonderdarling - https://archiveofourown.org/works/3044741

after me comes the flood by Aria - https://archiveofourown.org/works/73096

Doctor Who Season Four by Aria - https://archiveofourown.org/works/13433

Need by Lamiel - https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320687

Timeless Horror by CheerfullyCynical - https://archiveofourown.org/works/34569250

suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee by ProdigalPragmatist - archiveofourown.org/works/52101307

The Game by Veryane - archiveofourown.org/works/48231109

Time Lord Victorious by Veryane -

Inhale by Veryane -

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: In which the sins of the father are visited upon the daughter.

Author: x_los

Note from submitter: In which Jenny's parent and his bf are bitterly divorced :c

[mintedwitcher]

Here, have a very short excerpt from the fic I'm working on rn:

“Stop staring,” the Master said, refilling his glass with one hand as the other furiously scribbled notes. The Doctor startled, and dropped his gaze back to his book. “I’m not, I’m reading,” the Doctor replied. “You haven’t turned a page in twenty-seven minutes,” the Master said. “I’m… savouring it,” the Doctor said.

what a fucking idiot (affectionate)

[piwo-zero]

hi, I'm writing a doctor who fanfic! and it is thoschei, obviously. so, maybe, check it out??

summary:

Even the fact that this person appeared out of nowhere wasn't something special - it had happened before. Though they weren't in a wedding dress this time. And they weren't ginger (just purple? Their hair was purple that is. Their skin wasn't purple. Just a little bit green looking. But not as in alien green or “I'm about to throw up” green but as in “I hate sunlight” or "I am dead” way. If that makes sense. Anyway). The weird part was their reaction. They looked at the Master, eyes in surprised recognition, and instead of saying something along the lines of "Harold Saxon?!" they basically shouted "THE MASTER!?".

Or

a very self-indulgent au where the Doctor accidentally gains a new companion, who:

1. knows a little bit to much about his life;

2. is weirdly obsessed with death and other scary things;

3. is really keen on him and the Master getting together.

Chaos ensues.

characters: The Doctor, The Master, Original Non-Binary Character

relationships: Tenth Doctor x The Master (Simm), The Doctor & OC, The Master & OC

additional tags: Enemies to Lovers, Post-Episode: s04e17-e18 The End of Time, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack and Angst, Goth OC, they/them pronouns for oc, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, POV Alternating

category: m/m

I'm very excited about this, as I was thinking about it for some time now! I'm looking for a beta reader - feel free to dm me!

[frvmewxrk]

so i kinda wrote a thing. again.

academy era thoschei is not my favourite thing to write because there’s so much canon material that just.. disappears. like you find an info once and you’ll never find it again, it’s an hell to find canon stuff about them, but i tried. it’s not the best and it’s probably ooc but i wanted to share it.

[quietwings-fics]

call it mercy

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Doctor Who Ship: TenSimm Additional Tags: Episode Fix-it: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, First Aid Wordcount: 500 Summary:

The bullet misses its mark.

Prompt:

"⛑️and/or 🛏️ for any terrible blonde boy in the roster rn <3"

The only thing that saved him, the Doctor is painfully aware, was that Lucy Saxton had never held a gun in her life. If not for that, there would have been nothing for the Doctor to do, but beg the Master to regenerate. There’s another life skimming along the one he’s living, so close he can almost taste the helpless grief, but it was already unreachable by the time the bullet lodged itself in the Master’s shoulder instead and when the Doctor finally dragged him (unwilling but injured to the point where his resistance didn’t mean much) into the TARDIS to take care of it, that other possibility was fading away like morning mist and his borrowed loss with it.

Here, the Master is alive, and breathing, and bleeding. He’s snapping at the Doctor like a wounded animal, teeth and all, until the Doctor makes him sit and bow over a table. The Master’s knuckles are white as bone as he grips his hands together. The Doctor touches his bare shoulder, feeling the heat of his life through the latex gloves he’d hastily put on, the slickness of blood coating his fingers. The Master flinches, once from his touch and a second time when the movement jars the bullet trapped between muscle and bone.

“If you’re going to torture me, hurry up and get started,” he says, though the Doctor can hear his gritted teeth.

He hovers his hand over the wound for a moment. Pressing down would mean agony. If the bullet had splintered after impact, it would drive each shard of it deeper.

No one would deserve it more after the last year.

The Master makes another noise, a sharp breath sucked in through his teeth. It rattles through his body. He’s sweating, a sheen across the back of his neck and soaking his hair.

The Doctor holds him steady.

“I’m going to take it out,” he tells the Master. It’s practically instinct at this point to reach out telepathically to calm him down. Even species who don’t have a lick of telepathic ability can still receive a signal or two, even unaware. The Master, by contrast, is very aware of what the Doctor’s doing, and he’s the first one to fight being reassured. “I’m going to help you,” the Doctor persists, just as stubbornly.

He places a hand on the back of the Master’s neck. It slips until he tightens his grip.

“Stay,” the Doctor orders.

For once, the Master listens. He does it with teeth bared and every muscle in his body tensed, but he listens.

The Doctor examines the torn hole in his shoulder. Until he regenerates, if he regenerates, it will scar and ache. Gingerly, the Doctor picks up a sterile pair of tweezers and sets to work removing caved-in flesh and shards of the bullet. The Master twitches under him each time he feels something get dragged out of him, and the Doctor suppresses the urge to tell him that he’s safe now.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[acetheta]

hey yall ao3 is weird on my phone but i uploaded a new tensimm fic !!

( tags: @aceoflanterns @spy-doc @thoschei @thetorturedlovergirl @stompandhollar )

[radio-ghost-cooks]

EOT but the Master had time to think while it was dead

tags: death is a place, resurrection, tensimm, their little forehead bonk, running, gallifrey referenced, longish

Turns out that Death is very good at quieting your mind. The Master figured that out when it slipped away from its life, in the Doctor's arms, stubbornly refusing itself a regeneration. And now there it floated, in the place where there was nothing. In Death.

When floating around in pure Nothingness you have a lot of time to think, you see. Especially for the Master who, for the first time in literal centuries, heard absolutely nothing. No Drums. None of the wretched pounding in its ears.

And now that it could think, it thought about quite a lot. The Valiant, its (ex) wife, the rest of the tracks on its Take Over The Universe playlist, the feeling of dying, how nice it felt to be in the Doctor's arms once more... Now there's a thought. It had actually quite liked it.

After realizing how much it liked being held, the Master also figured out that it really did want to run away with the Doctor. Like they'd planned when they were kids. Perhaps, if its plan worked out, it might take them up on their offer to help. Maybe they really could make the Drums go away.

When the Master met the Doctor next, it was in an abandoned junkyard warehouse. It attacked them first. Before anything else, as much as it loved the Doctor, it didn't want any tricks out of them.

It crouched down beside them and reminisced about Gallifrey. About its father's old estate and the hills they used to run through. Then it grew hungry, craving craving craving the taste of hot and fat and flesh between its teeth. The Doctor spoke of some old prophecy.

Oh, how the Master hated prophecies, the idea that certain events couldn't be changed. Everything could be changed. It was simply a matter of w- 1234, 1234, 1234.

"It hurts. Doctor, the noise. The noise in my head, Doctor. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Stronger than ever before. Can't you hear it?" The Master pleaded, begging for them to hear its pain. The Doctor shook their head. "I'm sorry." It began to shake, emotion threatening to slip through the cracks and expose it for the tired, scared thing it was. "Listen, listen, listen, listen," it hissed, "Every minute, every second, every beat of my hearts, there it is, calling to me. Please just listen."

The Master pressed their foreheads together; an intimate gesture that served to increase the power of the psychic bond they've had since the two of them were but children. Within moments, the Doctor scrambled away as if burned, a horrified confusion in their soft brown eyes. That could only mean one thing. They heard it.

She heard the Drums that had tortured it since it was small. The Master rushed back next to the Doctor, grabbing a hold of her coat and practically trying to burrow into it. It couldn't bear it. Its one true friend, its longtime lover, its one and only, could hear all which tortured it.

"I can help you," she whispered. "Please, Master, let me help you." What else could it do? It sobbed, "Make it stop..." whining in pain as the sound grew louder once more. She nodded and wrapped her arms around the Master. "Of course," the Doctor cooed, "Of course I'll help you."

After a little while, the Master finally untangled itself from the Doctor and stood up, taking her hand. "Take me to the TARDIS. It's been so long since we've been in one together," it thought, pulling her up onto her feet. She just smiled at it. And they ran.

They ran as quickly as they could over the piles of rubbish, back to where the TARDIS stood, big and tall and very much blue. They had to speed up a bit when a bunch of humans tried to catch them, but it was really just more fun for them than anything. Dashing into the ship, the Master barely had time to shut the door before the Doctor whisked them away. Far, far away.

The Master sighed, tapping its foot. "D'you really think you'll be able to fix me? Fix this?" It asked, gesturing to its head. "I'm rather fucked up." "Nothing, I've found, is entirely non-unfuckupable," they murmured in reply, " and I'm certain that you won't be the exception." They were both quiet for some time. Simply floating in space. In the middle of an awful lot of Something. "I've come to the conclusion that I don't like Death." The Doctor turned to look at it. It hummed, "As quiet as dying makes your brain, being surrounded by pure Nothing isn't all that fun." "Well it's a good thing you're here in Something then," they offered, grinning. "And if it means much, I'm glad you're here in Something with me."

[roxannepolice]

Another thing I adore about saxteen bubble universe, and am happy to report I included in my own series but also found in a brilliant makeout fic, is Fourteen being sooo enamoured by the little padding on the waist Saxon got along with the beard. He finally has something to grab and squeeze. He's constantly nuzzling either at the beard or the tummy, while the Master acts appalled and Donna just has to put up with the purring noises.

Like, s10 would have ended differently if Twelve took a moment to compliment on the Master improving his diet.

[quietwingsinthesky]

For the prompt:

Ten/Simm

(I think this might be more AU territory, but do as you see fit).

What if The Doctor got trapped in the timelock with The Master.

I don’t think that Rassilon took kindly to The Master killing him, probably had him arrested and tortured and The Doctor has to deal with the aftermath of that.

AU territory perfectly okay, I had fun playing in it :3

As the Master has learned to, when he wakes, he gives no sign of it.

He listens closely as someone pads around his prone body. Strange that the surface beneath him feels so comfortable. They usually keep him on cold slabs, little better than a corpse.

Their footsteps round him. He can't wait forever. If he can't escape, (and he hasn't resigned himself to that and never will, as long as he's still alive. The Time Lords have no idea the kind of patience he can wield. He will outlast them.) then he will lash out until they force him back into unconsciousness and remember, next time, to only let him wake up chained. There's something basely satisfying about killing his captors when they let their guard down, a reminder that however Time Lords posture, even the President himself can be torn to pieces.

(They wanted him for a weapon again. He won't be used in this war twice.)

They come close. He feels a hand brush his cheek.

He strikes, launching at them with little finesse and as much fury as he can muster. His head pounds with it. They yell, confused, as he pins them to the floor and wraps his hands around their throat, until-

It always catches him off-guard.

"Take the perception filter off!" he orders, clamping his hand tighter around their throat.

"Master-" the Doctor's voice chokes out, and he squeezes harder. Their eyes widen as his words sink in, and they scrabble at his hands. "No, it's me! It's me!"

It never is.

The Doctor's face twists in pain beneath him.

"You have one chance," he says. "Prove it." That's the weakness—not mercy or sentimentality. No, they know what to exploit. He wants freedom so badly. The Doctor has it, took it and ran and left him behind. He loosens his grip just barely, and out comes the Doctor's strained voice.

"Who else would come back for you?" the Doctor asks, and it's so earnest, so true, that the Master starts giggling too hard to keep his hands steady. He expects the other shoe to drop, but he can't stop himself, bowed over the Doctor until his laughter begins to hurt. No punishment ever comes. The Doctor reaches up tentatively and clutches the Master's shoulders as he shakes apart.

[tardis-ghost-blog]

Ten/Simm smut!

No, you don't need to read the rest of the story. This chapter needs no explanation 👀

Have fun